


Rhapsody In Green

by realityisoverrated



Series: Infinite Love [164]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Smoaking billionaires, Toliver, flommy, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 07:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realityisoverrated/pseuds/realityisoverrated
Summary: Date night for Felicity and Tommy goes awry. Oliver falls back on an old talent to rescue their night.





	Rhapsody In Green

**Author's Note:**

> This story depicts a polyamorous relationship between one woman and two men. If this is not something you are interested in, please stop and go no further.
> 
> This installment is 39/164. The chronological list for the series, with hyperlinks, can be found at http://archiveofourown.org/works/11051019

Artwork by ligiapimenta

 

The sound of Chopin greeted Felicity as she rushed through the front door.  "I'm sorry, babe.  I know I'm running late.  Give me five minutes and I'll be ready," she said as she rushed by the living room on her way to the stairs.  "You're sounding great."

Felicity was halfway up the stairs when she stopped, nearly tripping over her own feet.  She returned downstairs and walked into the living room to find Oliver, not Tommy, playing the piano, "I didn't know you played."

Oliver grinned as he kept playing, "I'm a man of many hidden talents."

“Don’t I know it.” She leaned against their new baby grand, "Is this a pre-island skill or was there a piano on Lian Yu?"

He chuckled, "Definitely pre-island.  I started taking lessons when I was five."

"Moira," Felicity smiled knowingly.

"She thought it would make me elegant and refined," he said as he played a glissando.

Felicity laughed with joy, "Didn't quite work out that way."

"No," he grinned, "but it really helped me to get laid."

"That, I believe." Felicity sat on the bench next to him.  "I kind of wanna have sex with you right now."

"The power of the piano," he winked.  "Of course, Tommy had much more success."

"The singing," Felicity said knowingly.

"Women seemed powerless against Tommy’s singing when he accompanied himself on the piano," Oliver said with a faraway look in his eyes.

"I can only imagine." Felicity wrinkled her nose and laughed, "No, I don't need to imagine.  He's used that power against me."

"Me too," Oliver admitted with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Speaking of,” she said looking around their living room, “where is he?  We have theater tickets."

Oliver abruptly stopped playing, "I'm afraid you're stuck with me as your date tonight."

"Did something happen at Verdant?" she asked with concern.

Oliver grimaced, "He's with the lawyers."

"What now?" she asked with a sick feeling in her stomach. Ever since she first met Tommy, his name mentioned in the same sentence as lawyers filled her with dread.

"He was served with a wrongful death suit," Oliver sighed, “again.”

"There's nothing left in the Merlyn estate.  You can't get blood from a stone," Felicity said angrily.

Oliver grimaced. "Tommy is being sued, not the Merlyn estate.  The suit alleges that he knew about Malcolm's plan."

"Not this again," she rose from the piano bench. "There's no evidence that he was complicit, because he wasn't.  They can't prove that he was." Felicity didn’t begrudge the victims of the Undertaking their anger and their pain. She didn’t begrudge them taking every dime of the Merlyn estate and Merlyn Global. She did resent them going after Tommy. They had no way of understanding how much pain Malcolm had inflicted upon Tommy over the years. They couldn’t understand the power the Undertaking still had over Tommy. The money was irrelevant to Tommy, Oliver, and Felicity, but the depositions that Tommy was going to be forced to sit through again were going to be torture for him. They were all going to be in for a long couple of months.

"It's a civil lawsuit, not criminal. There's a lower standard. They don’t have to prove anything," he reminded her as he held out his hand for her to take. “You should get ready, if you don’t want to be late.”

"Is he all right?" she asked as she took his hand.

"He'll be okay," Oliver said, dropping his head to her shoulder.

Felicity’s free hand cradled his head. "Why didn't you go with him?"

Oliver nuzzled her neck. "He wanted me to take you to the show."

"I won't be able to enjoy myself," she huffed. “Tommy really wanted to see this show.”

"What should we do with the tickets?" Oliver asked.

"I'll ask Curtis and Paul. If they can't go, I’ll give them to Jerry," she said pulling her cell from her pocket.

“Are you sure?” Oliver kissed her hand. “He really wanted you to go.”

As much as Felicity wanted to see the show, she wanted to be there when Tommy came home. He was going to need them. “I don’t want him to come home to an empty house.”

Oliver smiled sadly, “Me neither.”

“Serenading us at the piano would probably cheer him up,” Felicity sat back down on the piano bench.

Oliver’s fingers returned to the piano and Chopin returned to filling their home.

 

The rain lashing against the floor to ceiling windows of the conference room matched the storm raging within Tommy. He was grateful the view was of the bay and not the Glades. Staring at the void his father left in the city would probably be more than he could bear.

“Mr. Merlyn – Tommy?” a hesitant voice asked from behind him.

Tommy took a moment to steel his face from revealing his inner turmoil and exhaustion. He turned to face the table full of lawyers and wondered how much this meeting was going to cost him. It was bad enough he was missing a date night with Felicity. It made him feel sick to think how much he was about to spend to defend himself from a groundless lawsuit. He’d much rather donate the cost of the legal fees to the Rebecca Foundation. It wasn’t lost on him that he was spending money to avoid giving money to the victims of the Undertaking when he’d anonymously donated thirty million dollars on his thirtieth birthday to the victims of the Undertaking. “Sorry, Eric.” He returned to his chair at the table. “You were saying?”

“We think we should ask for a dismissal,” Eric Alford said slowly.

Tommy studied the man sitting next to him. Eric was in his early fifties and the head of the law firm. He’d flown in from the firm’s Chicago office to take the meeting with Tommy in person. “You don’t think the judge will dismiss?”

“There’s a lower standard in civil than in criminal court,” Eric answered. “The plaintiff’s attorney has a lower bar to meet.”

Eric wasn’t telling him anything new. This wasn’t Tommy’s first rodeo with this type of lawsuit. “I had no idea what my dad was planning until Moira Queen got on television and told the world. I wish I had known. I wish I could’ve done something,” he said shakily. “I lost someone I loved too.”

“I think the prior civil cases that you’ve won, will help our argument to obtain the dismissal,” Eric said, “but I don’t think Evan Fielding would’ve taken another one of these, if he didn’t have something new to link you to the Undertaking.”

Tommy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He was exhausted. Everything about this situation filled him with anxiety. He knew there couldn’t be any evidence linking him to the Undertaking, but his father was capable of anything. Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if his father had manufactured evidence to link him with Unidac Industries or Dr. Markov. Lawyers had tried and failed to link him with the decision to close his mom’s clinic. Tommy’s refusal to sign the paperwork or vote with his father and the rest of the board had been his best defense with the last lawsuit. “Do you know what he has?” Tommy asked with curiosity.

“No, do you?” Eric responded with a question of his own.

Tommy looked the attorney in the eyes, “I didn’t have anything to do with the Undertaking. Whatever he has, it’s not credible.”

Tommy’s attention drifted to the folder in front of him as the lawyers around the table began to discuss their strategy for dismissal. Tommy flipped through the documents about his father’s victims. There were photographs and biographies that detailed lives cut short or derailed by debilitating injuries. The photographs never failed to make his eyes swim. An unexpected photograph made him pause. It was a picture of Laurel. A picture Tommy had taken of her the Christmas before her death. He’d said something dirty to make her laugh and he’d caught the moment with his camera. She looked happy. She’d been happy. They’d had a great Christmas. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying.

Tommy turned to Eric and held up the photo, “Did Quentin and Dinah Lance join the suit?”

Eric shook his head, “Fielding named all the dead in the suit. Only the survivors were required to affirmatively join the suit.” Eric tapped the photo, “This is deliberate. It’s meant to hurt you. He’s trying to keep you unbalanced.”

Tommy looked at the photo. “Well, his strategy worked. This hurts.  All of it hurts,” he said covering the folder with both hands.

“You can’t take this personally,” Eric cautioned.

Tommy scoffed. There was no other way to take this than personally. No matter what he might achieve in life, his obituary will still speculate whether or not he had anything to do with the mass murder.

“He thinks you’re guilty,” Eric responded bluntly. “A lot of people still do.”

Tommy was surprised by Eric’s candor. Most of the people Tommy paid liked to sugarcoat things for him. “Do you?”

“I don’t,” Eric answered. “Mass murder isn’t in your nature.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tommy said sarcastically. “Is this about the money?” he asked. “This is Fielding’s third attempt at me.”

“It’s also about the money. You came into your full trust four months ago. Fifty billion is a tempting target.”

“Did these people – the survivors – did they get money from the settlement after the liquidation of the Merlyn estate?” Tommy asked. He knew that many of the survivors had injuries that would require a lifetime of medical treatment.

“They did.” Eric took hold of Tommy’s forearm and lowered his voice, “It’s not your responsibility to take care of these people.”

“Isn’t it?” Tommy asked seriously. “If not me, who?”

“You’re providing free medical care to every person in this city who asks for it. You’ve set up scholarships for every survivor. You’ve reopened CNRI in Laurel’s name. You provide housing subsidies.” Eric listed the charitable works Tommy had begun on a small scale after the Undertaking and had ramped up his donations as soon as he turned thirty. “There’s also the not so small matter of your thirty million dollar donation.”

It didn’t seem like nearly enough. Tommy shook his head. “That’s not actually me doing all that.”

Eric chuckled, “You’re splitting hairs. You – the Rebecca Foundation – anonymous donation - I don’t see the difference.”

Tommy sighed. He didn’t donate money to receive acknowledgment or thanks. He donated money because it was the right thing to do. “Can you have someone from your office determine if anyone in this folder has a real need? Once you win – I want to make sure that no one has fallen through the cracks and needs more help.”

“We’ll look into it,” Eric promised.

“Thank you,” Tommy said. A small smile turned his lips as he looked at Laurel’s picture. He hoped that wherever she was, Laurel was still proud of him. He smiled sheepishly when Eric caught him slipping her photo into his suit’s breast pocket.

 

At the sound of the front door opening and closing, Oliver lowered the heat on the stove to simmer, and called out, “We’re in here.”

Tommy appeared in the doorway and nearly took Oliver’s breath away. He looked like a broken child in his socks and soaking hair. Things had gone worse with the lawyers than Oliver had originally feared. Felicity had made the right call to skip the theater.

Confusion furrowed Tommy’s brow, “You’re supposed to be at the theater.”

“Paul and Curtis took the tickets. We’ll go another night,” Felicity said with a smile.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Oliver told him.

Tommy looked back towards the hall, “I’m tired. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“Hey,” Oliver said to Tommy’s back, “come here for a second.”

Tommy reluctantly entered the kitchen and stood before Oliver. Oliver took a clean dish towel from the drawer and laid it over Tommy’s wet head. He gently massaged the towel over his boyfriend’s damp curls. Slowly, Tommy’s shoulders relaxed, and he rested his head against Oliver’s shoulder. “Have dinner with us,” Oliver requested gently.

“I won’t be good company,” Tommy warned.

“That’s okay,” Oliver responded flirtatiously, “you’re still good to look at.”

A small snort of laughter escaped Tommy and he wrapped his arms around Oliver’s waist. “Something does smell good.”

“Felicity wanted stroganoff,” Oliver lied. He had made Tommy’s favorite comfort food, knowing that his boyfriend was going to need all the comfort they could lavish him with, but would resist being fussed over.

“She did, did she?” Tommy asked with a smile as he lifted his head.

“It feels like stroganoff weather,” Felicity said as she rested her head against Tommy’s back. Her hands ran up his chest and then slipped his suit jacket from his shoulders. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Hmmm,” Tommy hummed his agreement.

Oliver kissed the top of Tommy’s head and ran his hands up and down Tommy’s back.

“You’re warm,” Tommy sighed as he tightened his arms around Oliver.

“Felicity found out one of my secrets today,” Oliver said teasingly.

Tommy lifted his head and looked between his boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Turns out,” Felicity poked Tommy in the belly, “you were holding out on me.”

The look of fear in Tommy’s eyes made Oliver feel guilty, “Relax. She found out you’re not the only one in this house who can play the piano.”

Tommy raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You told her?”

Felicity bit her lip and shook her head. “I caught him playing. He sounded pretty good.”

“He was always pretty good, he just never practiced,” Tommy teased gently.

“I’ve been practicing – when no one is home,” Oliver admitted.

He took hold of Tommy’s hand and led him into the living room. Felicity handed Tommy a glass of wine and pulled him down onto the sofa next to her.

“I told Oliver that serenading us would probably get him laid,” Felicity said with a cheeky grin.

A small smile tugged on Tommy’s lips, “I think that’s a real possibility.”

Oliver sat down at the piano, his fingers flexing against his thighs. He was going to return to the Chopin when he caught the smiles on Tommy and Felicity’s faces. He wanted them to forget about the lawsuit and keep smiling. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the best way to make a serious Tommy laugh and sing along. Youthful memories of sitting beside Tommy at the piano as they sang at the top of their lungs filled him with happiness. His fingers danced across the keys with the song’s opening notes. He saw Tommy go still before he burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe you remember how to play that.” Tommy said, rising from the sofa.

“I’m not sure I do,” Oliver said truthfully. He played the opening notes again, “Ready for me to bring your karaoke fantasies to life?”

Tommy leaned against the piano. “Ollie, is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?” he asked with a wink and a broad smile. “Caught in a landslide. No escape from reality.”

Felicity threw her head back and laughed. “This I have to hear,” she said over Tommy continuing to sing.

Oliver laughed as he continued to play. He would remember every note and every lyric if it made the man and woman he loved smile and forget their worries.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are always welcomed and appreciated. 
> 
> It appears that extreme weather is happening all over the globe this week. Wherever on the globe you're reading this, I hope you are safe and well. 
> 
> Prompts are encouraged.
> 
> You can also come say hi to me on tumblr. I'm always happy to answer questions about this verse or anything else Arrow. http://realityisoverrated-fic.tumblr.com


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